


starry eyes

by zouee



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bottom Zayn, Choking, M/M, Porn With Plot, Strangers to Lovers, Top Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-05 19:22:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12800664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zouee/pseuds/zouee
Summary: He could walk. He has no idea where he’s going or how far it is or if he’ll even make it because he’s so fucking drunk. But he could. He’ll ask passerby’s on his way, any sort of direction. Maybe he’ll be able to snag a taxi while he’s at it.“You alright, bro?”The voice comes from behind him, it’s unfamiliar and friendly but Louis doesn’t move. He’s got his face to the sky and his hands clenched by his side. Obviously he’s not alright.(Or, Louis' deserted on a night out and Zayn ends up being the best thing he needs.)





	starry eyes

_ In the beginning,  
_ _God created Heaven and Earth._    
_For what it's worth,_  
_I think that he might have created you first._  

                                                         - Genesis 

* * *

 

 

Rain shouldn’t fall as hard as it does. 

 

It’s loud, obnoxious and it _hurts_. It’s also extremely ironic when it correlates with your mood—acting as a soundtrack to your pathetic feelings, having the rainclouds cry around you as you feel sorry for yourself—and it’s exactly what Louis doesn’t need, standing on the sidewalk of a shady bar on a Friday night, alone and deserted. 

 

He shuffles out his dodgy phone from his pockets, cracked in more ways than one from being dropped countless times, and shields it from the rain with his hand as he squints to look at it. The rain buckets down onto his exposed neck, the weight of each droplet angering him even more, mainly frustrated at the turn of events this night has taken. 

 

He’s about to call a cab, an Uber, a Lyft, _anything_ that will take him away from here and into his own waiting, warm bed. Though of course, as Louis tries to unlock his phone, all that he’s met with is a black screen. 

 

“ _Fuck_ —bastard!” He groans to nobody in particular, ready to throw his phone onto the road to break it into smithereens. He doesn’t, and instead drops his head back to welcome the rain on his face, admitting defeat. 

 

He could walk. He has no idea where he’s going or how far it is or if he’ll even make it because he’s so _fucking_ drunk. But he could. He’ll ask passerby’s on his way, any sort of direction. Maybe he’ll be able to snag a taxi while he’s at it. 

 

“You alright, bro?”

 

The voice comes from behind him, it’s unfamiliar and friendly but Louis doesn’t move. He’s got his face to the sky and his hands clenched by his side. Obviously he’s not alright. 

 

“No.” He says simply. This is where the voice walks away, walks inside, gives up. 

 

Instead, he hears footsteps and suddenly there’s someone beside him. Louis doesn’t open his eyes. 

 

“You’re swaying.” 

 

This makes Louis frown. He supposes he is, now that he notices it. He stops, standing still. “No I’m not.”

 

A short, stilted laugh is heard and Louis can’t help but open one eye to look at this stranger. It’s not very smooth, since the rain falls hard onto his eyeball. 

 

“ _Shit_.” He hisses, bending over as he rubs at his eye. The laugh continues and Louis feels like telling this man to piss off. Once recovered, he considers doing just that. But then he looks at him—and this may just be his beer-goggles working in full force—but this stranger is the best-looking person he’s ever seen. “Shit.” He repeats for an entirely different reason. 

 

The first thing he notices is his eyes. They’re only lit up by the streetlights surrounding them since the moon and the stars are covered by the clouds but they’re big and almond-coloured and they’re looking at Louis like he’s the most amusing thing they’ve ever seen. His eyelashes are clumped together from the rain, making the droplets fall onto his cheeks as he blinks. And his _cheeks_ , the bones stick out like they’re proud, carving out the hollowness that reaches his full, well-trimmed beard that shapes his prominent jawline. His dark hair is parted down the middle, wavy and long down to his shoulders, brushing against the black leather jacket which, if it were anyone else, Louis would have laughed at because—‘what, are you a bikie or something?’

 

Louis wishes he could say that. Louis wishes he could say anything, at this point. 

 

“Zayn,” He says, so casual and cool as though Louis isn’t contemplating stripping himself bare right here in the middle of the night, cold and in public. He realises ‘Zayn’ has his hand out, waiting, and Louis shakes it, probably a bit too earnestly. 

 

“Nice to meet you, Zayn. I’m drunk.” Louis blurts out.

 

The laugh from before returns in the form of a chuckle and it’s so much worse actually seeing the way his eyes turn into half-moons and how his tongue presses against his teeth as he smiles. He’s frowning, too, looking at Louis like he’s a little weird. His hand still doesn’t drop from where they’re shaking, though, so Louis thinks he might be into it. 

 

“Well, _Drunk_.” Zayn says, dropping his hand. Dammit. “Why’re you out here, then?”

 

Louis crosses his arms over his chest, shuffles his feet so he has a wide stance and looks at Zayn in a way that hopefully conveys a I’m-scary-and-intimidating-and-not-at-all-affected-by-you-I-swear kind of vibe. “Could ask the same about you.”

 

Zayn looks at him for a moment before grinning down at his shoes, scratching his nose idly. His eyelashes flutter back open once he locks eyes with him again and Louis’ poor tough-like mask crumbles. 

 

“I’m just trying to get home.”

 

“Ah! Twins.” Louis says, pointing at him. He stumbles a bit but regains himself quickly. Nobody saw it, it’s okay. “And did your… ‘ _friends_ ’ also leave you to fend for yourself after they all found somebody to shag, too?”

 

He gets a sympathetic look in return, and then he’s shaking his head. “Nah, came here on my own.”

 

Louis shamelessly gives Zayn a once-over, hopes his expression conveys the fact that he thinks Zayn’s strange and not checking him out. (He definitely is. He really prays what he’s seeing isn’t the product of beer-goggles.) “That’s a bit strange.”

 

Zayn gives a one-shoulder shrug, careless, then looks towards the bar. “D’ya wanna go inside for a bit? Get out of the rain?”

 

It’s all he can do not to just blink dumbly. Didn’t he just say he was trying to get home? 

 

Thankfully, his brain to mouth filter isn’t working properly and he doesn’t blurt that question out into the open air. Instead he thinks solely on the fact that this attractive stranger just invited him into a bar and who’s Louis to say no to that?

 

They’re absolutely drenched once they step inside, creating puddles in their wake as they walk through the crowd and towards a spare booth. He watches as Zayn combs a hand through his hair, pushing his wet, long locks back from his face in a movement that’s so erotic Louis feels as though he might come then and there. 

 

“Think I might grab a beer.” Zayn says, innocently as though he hasn’t almost sent Louis into premature ejaculation, “Should we get you a water?”

 

“Yeah.” Louis breathes without hesitation. If he were anymore drunk, he’s sure he’d be drooling. It’s just so unfair, the lights above them on the ceiling showcase Zayn more than the dimly lit environment outside and Louis can see _everything_. Not to mention he’s wet for christ’s sake.

 

“Alright, go sit down, yeah?” Zayn says, hand lingering on Louis’ arm, “I’ll be back.”

 

And then he’s heading towards the bar and Louis’ frozen in place. 

 

The bar’s playing some song that Louis doesn’t recognise and the sounds of people laughing and talking fill Louis’ ears in waves. He manages to slide in the booth, wet clothes and all, and places his elbows on the table in front of him, head in his hands. The room’s spinning slightly and Louis can’t even collect his own thoughts—jägerbombs were a bad, _bad_ idea. 

 

“Here, drink up.”

 

Louis opens his eyes and sees the bottle of water in front of him. Zayn sits down opposite, his own water in his hands. Louis frowns. 

 

“Thought you were gonna have a beer?”

 

Zayn shrugs, “We can sober up together.”

 

“You don’t seem drunk at all.” Louis says, unscrewing the cap on his bottle. 

 

Zayn smiles, “I feel it, though. Definitely not as drunk as you.”

 

The water tastes good going down. Louis drinks half the bottle, Zayn watching him. He places it back down on the table and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “M’name’s actually Louis, by the way.”

 

Zayn nods, “Cool.” He says, smirking a little as he raises his own bottle to his lips, the rim of the bottle somewhat disappearing into his mouth, cheeks hollowed as he drinks.

 

Louis finds it in himself to blink. And then he shifts his gaze from _that_ to Zayn’s eyes, only to find that they’re already staring right at him.

 

_God_. Louis looks away immediately. He shuffles in his seat. These clothes are so goddamn uncomfortable.

 

“I need to change.” Is what he ends up saying. 

 

He can feel the heat creep up his neck despite the cold he feels all over. Granted, the place they’re in is warm enough. Zayn finishes drinking and screws the cap back on, that shit-eating smirk reappearing like he knows what he’s doing. 

 

“How’re you gettin’ home?”

 

“Dunno.” Louis replies honestly. “Was gonna catch a cab or something, but,” he dumps his phone on the table, presses the home button yet again and only gets welcomed by a black screen, yet again, “phone’s bloody dead.”

 

Zayn combs his fingers back through his hair again, “That’s a shame.” Then, “D’you wanna come back to mine instead?” 

 

He almost wants to pinch, slap, kick himself to prove that he heard that properly. There’s no way that Zayn—the human embodiment of everything beautiful—just asked him back to his place. 

 

To think that mere minutes ago, Louis had been discarded by his group of mates that just so happened to all find girls within twenty minutes of each other and leave him at the prime of his drunkenness. Now he’s here, sitting in a booth with a complete stranger drinking water whilst both completely drenched from head to toe. 

 

“Okay.” Louis says before he knows he’s saying it. 

 

Zayn’s eyes light up, like that’s fucking possible, and brings out his own phone, “Sick. Uber should be here in two minutes.”

 

And that’s that. 

 

It’s silent for a moment or two. Zayn’s taken to looking out over the crowd, subtly bopping his head to a Miguel song that’s hit the stereo. His eyes are scoping the room and he looks so relaxed, yet his side profile is even more deathly than his face front-on and Louis somehow forgets how to breathe. 

 

“Hey, can I—I just,” Louis stammers, starts fiddling with the bottle’s wrapper as he looks at it because now Zayn’s staring at him and he’s not sure if he can handle that right now, “I gotta ask, ‘cause I’ll hate myself if I don’t. Are you, like, a celebrity or something? Surely, like, an Instagram model at least. You obviously _know_ you’re gorgeous ‘cause, like, I mean…” He makes a sudden gesture to Zayn, waving him up and down. 

 

It’s the least coherent thing he’s ever said, probably the worst delivered compliment he’s ever given, and when he finally locks eyes with Zayn he wishes he didn’t say anything at all. Because now he’s looking back with this close-lipped smile that reaches his eyes and he’s scratching lazily at his beard, looking like he’s trying not to laugh at Louis’ pathetic attempt at woo-ing. 

 

“Nah, m’not.” Zayn replies easily. Then, totally catching Louis off-guard, he raises his brows and shamelessly shoots Louis an elevator stare before saying, “Are you?”

 

He looks smug, is the thing. Louis wants to lean over and kiss the half-tilted slant of his smile off his face. But if Louis’ not mistaken, Zayn’s outwardly flirting back, and this might be the best night of Louis’ life. 

 

“Nope, can’t say I am.” Louis leans back and it makes a squelching sound from the soaking clothes against the leather of the booth. “Just a simple lad who coaches the local footie team, I am.”

 

He drinks some more and his stomach flips at the way Zayn looks at him, impressed, “You do?”

 

Louis gulps, then smiles, unable to help it, “Yeah. It’s fun, y’know, when the little buggers _actually_ listen.” Zayn chuckles at that. “What do you do?”

 

“I uh, design video games, and that.” 

 

It’s the first time Zayn isn’t completely calm and collected, shuffling in his seat as the conversation turns to him, almost like he’s embarrassed by his occupation. But Louis can’t hide it when he openly gasps in amazement, mouth wide open. He can only imagine how ridiculous he must look when Zayn sees him, judging by the way Zayn’s eyes squint a little. 

 

“That is so fucking cool.” He gushes, and it makes Zayn look down, a slight smile appearing on his lips, “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

 

“Yeah?” Zayn asks, left side of his mouth tilting up, “You should swing by my office sometime, have a look at what we do.”

 

Louis’ nodding vigorously before Zayn’s even stopped talking. He’s about to reply when a beeping noise interrupts him. Zayn glances at his phone. “Oh, Uber’s here.” He says, and they both stand up. 

 

It’s probably second nature that makes him put his hand on Zayn’s lower back. And Zayn doesn’t flinch or move away, either, just hides his smile by licking his lips instead. It’s second nature, because usually when Louis’ chatting up someone at a dodgy bar and they decide to leave, Louis will guide them out towards the street with a hand placed on his or her back. 

 

Going through the crowd, at one point, Zayn even leans back into his touch. 

 

Exiting the bar, Louis sobers up pretty fast. It’s a stark contrast to when he first left, three sheets to the wind and frustrated. He’s still hazy around the eyes, a little off-balance on the feet, but they find the car and Louis opens the door for Zayn like he would with any other date he had. 

 

Though, something tells him Zayn’s not like any other date. And with the way Zayn looks at him as he enters the car, brushing his hand down his arm as he does so, Louis swallows harshly, wondering how the fuck he’ll manage the car ride. 

 

“How’re you both already so soaked?” The driver asks, looking at them in the review mirror as Louis closes the door behind himself. 

 

“Yeah, not sure about that one,” Louis answers, loving the way Zayn smirks at him, “Rain’s pretty heavy. Hard to avoid.”

 

The driver pulls out onto the main road and Zayn’s hand finds Louis’ thigh suddenly. Louis sucks in a breath and looks at Zayn, but his attention’s out the window, as though he’s not even acknowledging the fact that his hand’s dangerously close to his dick. Louis places his hand on top of Zayn’s, half as a comforting gesture, half as a precaution to make sure it doesn’t slide any higher. 

 

But Zayn’s a monster, apparently, because he uses his thumb to slide against the inseam of Louis’ jeans, making his whole body heat up. He chances a look at Zayn again, and this time Zayn’s looking at him, that fucking smirk on his lips more prominent than before. 

 

Once he locks eyes with Louis, he slides his hand up and there’s something in his eyes, a glint like he’s challenging him and what the _fuck_ is going on? 

 

“What, uh—“ Louis cuts himself off, his voice unnaturally high. He clears his throat, ignoring the way Zayn silently chuckles in the back of his hand. “What time do you clock off tonight?”

 

“Probably after you lot.” The driver replies, completely unaware of the situation in the backseat, the growing situation in Louis’ pants. “Usually finish around two-thirty, anyway.”

 

And shit, is that the time? “Wow,” Louis replies, somewhat casually. “You must get—“ It’s then, that Zayn decides to be a fucking menace and jump straight to cupping Louis’ bulge. “ _Shit._ ” Louis hisses, before yanking Zayn’s hand away and lacing his fingers with his own, stopping him. He feels his blood running south and his leg starts to bounce, impatient. “Get a lot of drunks, this time of night.”

 

He shoots a warning glare at Zayn but Zayn just winks and holy hell. He wants to pounce on him already, his dick throbbing in his jeans. He contemplates riling Zayn up, too, but he’s stuck to the seat and honestly he doesn’t think he’d be able to stop once he starts. 

 

The driver replies and at the end of it he laughs but Louis can’t catch anything he says with the way his ears are ringing. Louis lets out a fake laugh, too, and Zayn sees right through him, delighted by it. He’s completely silent the whole way but his eyes are hungry and he won’t stop _smirking_. 

 

“This it?” 

 

Louis whips his head away from Zayn to see an apartment block, his heart beating faster since they’ve arrived at their destination. 

 

“Yeah. Thanks.” Zayn tells him, letting go of Louis’ hand to get out of the car. 

 

“Have a good night, lads.” 

 

Louis swallows, nods, “You, too.”

 

He scrambles out of the car and Zayn’s already by his side, looking at him naively like he did absolutely nothing wrong. 

 

It’s still raining, hard and fast and Louis doesn’t tell him off, instead he races to the undercover area of the building and waits for Zayn to fetch the keys from his pocket to unlock the door. 

 

“You seem a bit flustered.” He says. As though he wasn’t the cause of the pink in Louis’ cheeks and the ever-uncomfortable erection in his pants. 

 

Louis just blinks at him as Zayn opens the door. “What do you mean? I’m fine.”

 

He pushes passed Zayn and walks down the corridor, earning a stifled laugh from Zayn. Louis doesn’t stop, though, just keeps walking, looking at each separate door and wondering which one’s Zayn’s. 

 

“You don’t even know where you’re going.” 

 

Louis stops in his tracks, hands on his hips. He reluctantly turns around and finds Zayn a few meters away, stopped at a staircase. He’s looking at him with amusement, the same expression he had when they initially met. 

 

He doesn’t say anything to Zayn as he walks over to him. Doesn’t say anything when he stops in front of him, eyebrow quirked in question. Zayn doesn’t say anything, either, just gestures to the staircase and presses his lips together, trying not to laugh. 

 

Louis climbs the stairs, vaguely aware of a set of eyes firmly attached to his butt, and feels the anticipation of what’s to come through his veins. They reach the top of the stairs and Zayn fiddles with his key again, taking it to the first door on the right, number 23. 

 

When the door opens this time, Zayn stands beside it, allowing Louis to go through first. Louis ducks his head as he does so, avoiding Zayn’s gaze. He looks around the apartment and it’s probably exactly what he’d think it’d look like if he ever got around to thinking about it. 

 

There’s a small kitchen in the left-hand corner, the entirety of it a coal-like black, all shiny and clean as though it’s never been used. Next to it is a table for two, with a large artwork of a city skyline on the far wall. On the right side of the apartment is a plasma T.V hanging on the wall, complete with a love-seat and a white shaggy rug on the floor. The corridor straight ahead is blocked off, but Louis assumes that’s where the bedroom and bathroom is held. 

 

“Nice place.” Louis comments, strolling in and getting a closer look at the awards hung up on either side of the television. They’re both addressed to Zayn, both for his work. 

 

“Glad you think so.” Zayn replies, shutting the door. It makes a sound loud enough that Louis turns around to face him again. He’s heading over towards the kitchen slowly, “D’you want coffee or something? Tea? Or are you, like, hungry? Or…?”

 

Louis can’t help but smile a tiny bit, watching the way Zayn looks out-of-place in his own home, almost nervous. And it’s absurd, to Louis, how someone like Zayn could be nervous in front of company such as himself.

 

“I’m good, thanks, babe.” Louis finds himself saying. 

 

Zayn just nods, stepping closer hesitantly, his clicking fingers hitting the palm of his other hand idly, “So,” He says, finally stopping, a mere distance away, “You like video games?”

 

Louis feels himself grinning. He bites his lip to stop, though, since now it seems he’s got the upper-hand. It’s payback time. 

 

He steps slowly over to Zayn until he’s right in his space. He looks up at him through his eyelashes (a move he’s perfected greatly over the years) and watches as Zayn’s Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows thickly. Louis lets his fingers brush over the zipper line of Zayn’s jacket before saying, “Yeah, I do.”

 

It’s silent despite the small intake of Zayn’s breath, and then they’re just looking at each other. It’s a moment before Zayn finally comes to life and places his hand on Louis’ hip. “You don’t look drunk anymore.” He says. 

 

Louis just rolls his eyes and tugs at Zayn’s jacket, leaning him in. Their lips meet and Zayn reacts instantly, the hand on his waist pulling him closer and his other hand going into Louis’ hair. Louis slides his hands to rest on Zayn’s shoulders, his mouth on Zayn’s, feeling the heat of his body. 

 

They pull apart and Zayn smiles. “We’re both still so wet.“ Louis says.

 

But Zayn doesn’t say anything, just shrugs off his jacket onto the floor, the sound of it flopping wetly, and returns back to Louis’ mouth, cupping his jaw with his hands. Louis let out a surprised yet pleased sound and braces his hands on Zayn’s hips. 

 

Zayn presses his tongue against Louis’ lips and Louis let him in. He shifts Zayn’s shirt up with his fingers, the material heavy as Zayn starts to walk Louis backwards, tongues swirling around each other in desperate need. Louis slides his hands up his bare back as Zayn blindly opens the corridordoor. Their shirts stick together once their chests are flush up against each other, their jeans progressively becoming more and more uncomfortable.

 

Louis’ backed into another door, which Zayn opens, and Louis opens his eyes for the first time, spotting a double bed in the far corner. The door shuts and Louis spins Zayn around to back him into it. Louis parts from Zayn’s mouth and goes straight to his jaw, sucking a love bite and kissing it softly, Zayn writhing as he does so. 

 

“Your mouth’s so good.” Zayn groans as Louis moves down his neck, Zayn’s hand coming up to feed through Louis’ hair encouragingly. 

 

Louis shifts Zayn’s legs so they’re open more and slides his thigh in between them. It earns a shocked gasp from Zayn and Louis presses into it, reaching the skin above Zayn’s collarbone and licking a stripe across it. 

 

“Get this off.” Louis tells him, hitching up the shirt before Zayn takes it in his own hands and peels it off, throwing it somewhere in the room. Louis’ back on Zayn immediately, mouths finding each other, his now bare chest against Louis’ wet t-shirt. 

 

Louis licks into him, Zayn’s head pushed back against the door. He pulls Louis’ hips in closer, making them grind against each other for a moment, Louis’ knees almost buckling at the contact. 

 

He reaches around and pulls at Zayn’s thighs, hitching them up. Zayn goes willingly, mouth still connected to Louis’ as his legs wrap easily around his hips, clutching with his hands in Louis’ hair. 

 

They turn around and Louis eventually finds Zayn’s bed, careful enough to set Zayn down onto it. Louis hovers over Zayn, hands finding Zayn’s hair as Zayn slowly tips backwards, back hitting the mattress. Louis lifts up a bit more, Zayn’s legs still wrapped around him, pulling him in. Their clothed cocks rub together suddenly and Louis pulls his mouth apart just as Zayn lets out a breathy moan. 

 

“Your turn. Take— _fuck_ , take everything off.” Zayn stammers, frowning. 

 

“Yeah,” Louis breathes out, thrusts his hips against Zayn’s once more, making Zayn’s head tip back with a groan, eyes squeezing shut. Louis collects himself, realises what Zayn actually said, and shuffles so he’s sitting upright more, “Yeah.”

 

He moves away from Zayn reluctantly and takes off his shirt, Zayn instantly working on his own jeans. Louis throws his shirt on the floor and fiddles with the button on his jeans hastily whilst trying to keep his eyes on Zayn. He seems to be having trouble too, lifting his hips off the bed and attempting to pull his pants off as the material clings to his damp skin. 

 

“Fuck.” Zayn swears impatiently, tugging the stubborn piece of clothing down. 

 

So distracted in Zayn’s movements, Louis doesn’t realise he’s losing his balance trying to pull down his own pants until he stumbles a little, and then a lot. He ends up on the floor of Zayn’s bedroom, pants half-on, half-off. 

 

“Ugh.” Louis grunts. 

 

He hears laughter from the bed, so open and deep that it fills the room and Louis can’t even find it in himself to be embarrassed, his stomach flipping at the sound instead. 

 

“Shut up.” Louis tells him, promptly pulling off his shoes and socks as quick as possible. 

 

The laughter continues as Zayn lies flat on the bed, hand on his stomach as it shakes and Louis finds himself grinning. Zayn ends up shaking his jeans off, shoes flying along with it and it’s the least sexy and least co-ordinated way Louis’ ever undressed with someone but his cheeks hurt from smiling so much and once they’re both completely free of wet, sticky clothes, Louis leaps over to Zayn and brings him in for a kiss that’s all teeth and gums and Louis can feel him smiling against his own mouth. 

 

“That was ridiculous.” Zayn mumbles against him. 

 

Louis shakes his head, “Fucking rain.”

 

Zayn chuckles softly before bringing him in for a deeper kiss, one that’s more slow and sweet. The ‘fucking’ rain is still beating down on the roof, hitting Zayn’s window from outside. 

 

A hand trails down Louis’ back slowly, bumping over his spine and he shudders from the contact, leaning down a little more so he’s not hovering over Zayn. It’s then, that Louis’ cock, pressed against his stomach, briefly touches Zayn’s and they both let out shaky breaths, all smiles gone. 

 

Louis takes charge and moves his hand between them, finding Zayn’s cock and watching as his eyes roll to the back of his head. Louis swipes his thumb over the tip, collecting the pre-cum that’s formed there and uses it as lubricant to slide down his length slowly, Zayn’s thighs twitching at the movement. 

 

“Lou, can I… Can I suck you off?” Zayn asks, and all air escapes Louis as he looks at him, eyes wide and hopeful, “Please?”

 

“ _God_. Yes. Yeah.” Louis rolls off of him but not before kissing him again, hard and with purpose, and he sits at the edge of the bed as Zayn slides off it onto his knees. 

 

Louis inhales unsteadily, clutching at the bedsheets at just the mere sight of Zayn on his knees in front of him, completely naked and _there_. 

 

“You’re so gorgeous.” Louis tells him, definitely without meaning to. 

 

Zayn smiles at the compliment, lashes casting downwards. Louis can’t help it—physically cannot control it—as he reaches out and combs back Zayn’s hair. Zayn looks up at him from the touch, pupils blown wide and expression wanting. Louis continues to stroke down Zayn’s face, taking the time to admire him even though his cock is waiting and impatient and leaking. But he just can’t rush this, not when Zayn’s the most beautiful person he’s ever gone home with but also because he can’t help but think this will be a one night fling. 

 

He strokes his thumb lightly over Zayn’s cheekbone, down over his beard, to his lips. Zayn’s eyes don’t stray from Louis’, his body remaining perfectly still. He casts the pad of his thumb over his top lip, then his bottom one, going in a circle. Then he pulls his bottom lip down slightly and watches it spring back up as he moves onto to Zayn’s jaw. 

 

“Incredible.” Louis gushes. Soft, just for them.

 

“Lou.” Zayn says, blinking slowly, “I want to make you feel good.”

 

It sends a heat straight down to Louis’ cock, making it impossibly harder. 

 

“Okay.” Louis whispers, unable to manage anything else. 

 

Zayn holds his eyes as he shuffles closer, in between Louis’ thighs. He bends down just slightly, and without warning, places his tongue at the bottom of Louis’ length before sliding it up teasingly slow, right up to the tip. 

 

His eyes never leave Louis’ and Louis’ one hundred per cent sure he’ll wake up any minute now, lying in a gutter somewhere after having been kicked out of the bar, continuously drenched in rain with come on his pants because he had a drunk wet dream about a boy that simply can’t be real. 

 

But then Zayn’s pressing his lips to the head of his dick and it’s a slap of reality, really, because Louis can feel it everywhere. 

 

“You’re so fucking amazing. You’re— _shit_ —you’re so good, Zayn. You’re doing so good.”

 

Zayn licks the tip a bit more, eyes now shut as he does so, looking so into it as though he’s devouring every moment and _god_ , he really likes doing this, doesn’t he?

 

When he moves his hand from where they were clasped behind his back—Louis hadn’t even _noticed_ that—to fold around the base of his cock, Louis’ own fingers fly up to the back of Zayn’s head, his other hand clutching at the sheets harder. 

 

He starts to swallow him down and Louis’ thighs spasm out, “So— _christ_ , so good, babe.”

 

At that, Zayn must say something but all it comes out as is a moan and it vibrates against the sensitivity of Louis’ cock, making him tighten his grip in Zayn’s hair. This spurs him on, though, and he takes his free hand to the flesh of Louis’ thigh, squeezing once as he takes Louis deeper. He moves his hand up his thigh, then softly caresses Louis’ balls with his thumb.

 

“Jesus.” Louis curses, eyes up towards the ceiling. 

 

Zayn starts to raise the hand that’s around his cock to the same rhythm as his mouth as his other hand works underneath, squeezing and stroking and, in turn, driving Louis absolutely fucking crazy. 

 

He has to lie down, is the thing, and once he does, Zayn has a better angle to work with and his movements on his cock starts to speed up. Then he’s suddenly neglecting Louis’ balls but only to tap his hips in a way that asks him to lift them up. 

 

As reassurance, Zayn slides his mouth off Louis’ dick completely and Louis looks at him. “Fuck my mouth.” He says.

 

His mouth his red and puffy and slick with spit and he’s looking at Louis with something like need and yeah, yeah he can do that. 

 

Once Zayn’s mouth is back on, he waits, jaw slack and Louis slightly pushes on Zayn’s head. He goes willingly and Louis can’t _believe_ this is real life. He lifts his hips up, thrusts into Zayn’s mouth, slides back out. 

 

There’s a knot curling into Louis’ stomach and he’s not sure how much longer he’ll last. He fucks Zayn’s mouth once, twice, three times until he feels himself reaching the edge. 

 

“Ugh, _fuck_. Zayn… _Zayn_ , shit.” He lets out a breathy moan, one so high he doesn’t even recognise it as his own. “I’m gonna come.” 

 

Zayn moans against him as a response and that tips Louis over, thrusting up yet again and coming into his mouth. He lets out a cry, whining as his back curls off the mattress. 

 

He feels Zayn slowly slide off once Louis’ calmed, lying on his back and catching his breath. He manages to open his eyes just slightly, enough to see Zayn licking his lips and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

 

Zayn catches Louis staring and he smiles, hesitant, “How did I do?”

 

Louis lets his head fall back completely, almost-laughing because as _if_ he even needs to _ask_. He pats the mattress beside him and Zayn’s there in a flash, looking at him with big eyes and wet lips. 

 

“You did brilliantly, babe.” He tells him as though Louis’ mind isn’t absolute mush right now. “So perfect. Your mouth is incredible.”

 

Zayn flashes him a smile, one that reaches his eyes, and leans down to press a kiss to Louis’ lips. Louis blindly reaches out and cups Zayn’s cheek, kissing him back. He lets his hand trail down Zayn’s neck as their tongues meet, the kiss progressively getting more heated. He trails down Zayn’s chest, over his nipple, down his abdomen where he reaches the tip of Zayn’s cock, ready and leaking and undoubtedly aching to be touched. Zayn inhales sharply at the contact and pulls away from the kiss, foreheads touching. 

 

Louis licks his lips and raises his brows, “Let’s get you sorted, yeah?”

 

Zayn doesn’t reply, just looks at him and nods eagerly. 

 

“C’mon, move up the bed, then.” Louis says, starting to sit up. Zayn doesn’t waste a second before he’s closer to the headboard, lying flat on his back like a starfish, biting his lip and looking at Louis, waiting. “You’re gonna kill me, I swear to god.”

 

Zayn just lets out a light chuckle and it makes Louis’ stomach flip yet again. He crawls over to Zayn, hovering over him, carefully not touching. He bends down and kisses his lips just once before parting and kissing underneath Zayn’s jaw, under his ear. 

 

“‘Ave you got lube, love?”

 

He picks his head up, waiting for an answer. Zayn just scrambles upwards without a word, almost toppling Louis over before he leans over the bed to the drawer next to it and fetches the lube as well as a condom.

 

“Bloody hell, nearly knocked me down.” Louis says, teasing. 

 

Zayn bites his lip as he smiles and settles down to his position before. “Sorry, sir.”

 

Louis feels his dick throb. His smile falls and he has to regain his thoughts again before he continues what he was doing in the first place. Well, there’s _that_.

 

He finally picks up the lube and squirts some onto two of his fingers. He settles in between Zayn’s legs again and Zayn bends them, making it easier for him. Louis presses a finger against Zayn’s hole and Zayn quivers a bit, eyes fluttering closed. He sees his stomach clenching as Louis pushes in further and the sight of it all goes straight to his cock, already filling up again. 

 

He leans over Zayn and continues kissing down his neck. He slowly pushes in his finger until it reaches his last knuckle and Zayn lets out a short moan. It rings through Louis’ ears all the same and he starts to feel dizzy with it. 

 

As his lips reach Zayn’s collarbone, Louis pulls out before going back in with a slight twist and sucks his collarbone until it leaves a red mark. Zayn’s hips jerk upwards, impatient, and Louis glides in another finger half-way. 

 

“ _Fuck_.” Zayn breathes out.

 

Louis’ fully hard at this point, feeling Zayn on his fingers and hearing him like this is a deadly combination. 

 

He slides in again as Louis places his mouth on Zayn’s nipple, pushing both fingers all the way and slowly spreading them apart, making Zayn say Louis’ name in a desperate breath and Louis swears if he doesn’t start fucking him now he’ll come again without much else. 

 

He moves up to kiss Zayn, swallowing another moan as Louis fucks him with his fingers. When he breaks apart for a breath, Zayn cups Louis’ jaw with his hand. 

 

“‘M ready, Lou.”

 

Louis sits up straight, pulls out his fingers and rips open the condom packet with his teeth. He rolls it on his cock and gives himself a few strokes with his lubed-up fingers before re-aligning himself with Zayn. 

 

“You look so amazing.” 

 

Zayn looks at him, impatient, “ _Louis_.”

 

“Right, okay, yes. On it.”

 

He holds the base of his dick and when he grazes over Zayn’s hole, Zayn’s head flies back, eyes shut. Louis slowly presses in, the heat of it and the tightness of it make Louis’ mind go blank, completely overwhelmed. He pulls out just as slow, and when he pushes back in he places his hands onto the backs of Zayn’s thighs and brings up his legs, allowing Louis to reach it at a better angle. 

 

“Yeah.” Zayn mutters, voice deep. He reaches out to grab at Louis’ shoulder, attempts to pull him closer. Louis detaches one hand from Zayn’s thigh so he can place it next to Zayn’s chest as he leans forward, catching his lips with his own. 

 

It’s sloppy and messy but Zayn chases him all the same when Louis pulls back and then they’re all but breathing into each other’s mouths as Louis picks up the speed, their bodies moving together, grinding against the bed. 

 

When Zayn finds Louis’ hand, the one that’s next to Zayn’s chest, Louis thinks he wants to hold it so he laces their fingers together. What he doesn’t expect, though, is for Zayn to pick his hand up and guide it instantly over to his own neck, letting Louis press onto it. The mere insinuation of it is enough to make Louis’ hips stutter. 

 

“You want me to choke you?” Louis asks, voice raspy, half stuck in his throat. 

 

Zayn looks him in the eye and nods twice, “Please.”

 

“ _Christ_.”

 

Zayn’s hand remains over Louis’ own as Louis’ head drops besides Zayn’s, mouth to his shoulder. He picks up the speed, thrusting into Zayn as his hand presses slightly against Zayn’s throat. Louis hears Zayn getting himself off as his other other hand makes Louis press down even further. 

 

Louis’ close, he’s so close, and when he hears Zayn gasping for air, hand still pushing down, Louis has to bite Zayn’s shoulder to help him from crying out right near Zayn’s ear. He pulls out and slams into him harder, pressing his fingers into the sides of Zayn’s neck, feeling the tendons underneath his fingertips, and that’s what does it. 

 

Zayn comes, the lot of it spurting out onto Zayn’s stomach, Louis’ chest. Louis follows shortly after, his moans muffled by Zayn’s skin. 

 

They both lie there for a minute or two, the sounds of breathing filling the room as Louis lays on topof him, completely gone and exhausted. He feels Zayn’s hand come up to Louis’ head, petting him softly with the words of ‘thank-you’ that he never says. 

 

Louis turns his face towards Zayn and presses a kiss to his cheek. He watches as his mouth twists up into a smile, eyes still closed. 

 

“You’re insane, you know that?” Louis tells him, letting his own thumb stroke Zayn’s cheek softly, over his cheekbone. 

 

Zayn opens his eyes at that, just slightly, and frowns, “But… good?”

 

“Yeah,” Louis reassures, unable to help the small chuckle that slips, “Great, even.”

 

Zayn’s tongue darts out over his lips as he smirks. 

 

Louis kisses his mouth, soft and slow, before rolling over onto his side and throwing the condom in the bin. He moves up off the bed, legs slightly wobbly, and goes into the bathroom. He finds a washcloth underneath the sink and he wets it, cleaning himself off first before rinsing it again and returning back to the bedroom. 

 

Zayn’s there, remaining on the bed, eyes closed and sheets ruffled around him. Louis’ sure, without a doubt, this night is one he’ll be returning to in his dreams and imagination when he needs a good wank alone. 

 

He crawls onto the bed and proceeds to clean Zayn up. When he’s done, he catches Zayn already looking at him, sleepy eyes and lazy smile meeting him. 

 

“Alright?” Louis asks, his own smile forming. 

 

“Yeah,” He says, almost dreamily, “D’you smoke?”

 

They end up going out to the fire escape, Zayn dressed in tracksuit pants and a hooded jumper, Louis dressed in Zayn’s tracksuit pants and a zip-up cotton jacket that smells like him. The rain’s finally stopped but Louis wouldn’t be able to tell anyone when that happened. 

 

“So,” Zayn says, smoke curled around his words, “You didn’t end up going home alone after all.”

 

Louis thinks back to the start of the night, absolutely fuming that all of his friends found someone and he didn’t. “Yeah. I didn’t, did I? What insanely stunning man that’s obviously too good for me made _that_ happen?”

 

He says it as a joke, a tone that his friends would normally roll his eyes at, that would nudge their hips to Louis’ as a ‘shut up’, used to Louis’ frequent self-depreciating lines. But Zayn doesn’t know him too well, of course he doesn’t, and his cigarette pauses mid-air from his lips. 

 

The sky is still cloudy, offering no light onto this small area besides a dimly-lit, orange-hued light that sits above them. He can make out Zayn’s brows pulling together, his eyes slightly sad. He can also make out the slight bruising on his throat that Louis _put_ there. 

 

“I’m lucky to have met you tonight.” Zayn tells him sternly.

 

Louis swallows at the admission, taking a drag before replying, “I’m glad you found me.”

 

“Yeah, well, anyone who welcomes the rain and looks cute when they’re mad catches my eye.”

 

Louis definitely doesn’t blush. Except he definitely does and Zayn’s giving him a knowing smirk which is _awful_ because nobody’s had this much affect on him so early on. 

 

But that could also be because it’s about 4:44am and Louis’ coming down from alcohol but riding the high of sex and this cigarette is giving him head spins. 

 

It might also be because Zayn’s blinking slowly and his eyelashes are the longest Louis’ ever seen and every time he smiles Louis can’t help but return it and when he laughs it _does_ something to him—

 

“What are you thinking about?” Zayn asks, lent up against the railing that overlooks the city, pulling Louis from his thoughts. 

 

He shrugs, “How we’ve only just met and I already like you so much.”

 

It shocks himself how transparent he’s being. Usually he’ll lie, he’s fairly good at lying, he’ll turn the conversation into a joke or something that spins it so it’s not the truth and it’s not out there for the taking. But somehow he knows Zayn will see right through him otherwise. Knows that it’s not what he wants to say, if he lies. He’ll get that questionable frown, that stare that almost makes it look like he’s been disappointed. 

 

And he doesn’t feel over-exposed, displaying his thoughts and feelings so outrightly. It may have something to do with the fact that Zayn’s entire face softens and it brings a smile, one so cute and just for him as though it was the best thing Zayn’s heard.

 

“I like you too, Louis.” 

 

“Yeah?” Louis says before bringing the cigarette to his lips. 

 

Zayn just looks at him, blinks slow once again. “Yeah.”

 

The city life below them starts to die down, the club-goer’s filing out and finding their way home, the cars on the street not so frequently driving by anymore. It’s quietening down, but there’s still enough noise for the silence between them to be somewhat filled. 

 

It’s awkward, is the thing. Not in the way that silences are—since it’s strangely comforting, standing here opposite each other, not having to fill the gaps—but in the way that common courtesy is. Louis goes through the different ways he should leave. Should he wait around until his phone’s charged and he can make his own way back home whilst Zayn catches up on his sleep? Or should he finish his cigarette, give Zayn a kiss, strip out of these clothes back into his damp ones and leave without bothering him further? 

 

He knows Zayn’s probably exhausted, probably way too polite to ask Louis to go, and it kills him because out here it’s so cold and dark and in there it’s so warm and everything just smells of Zayn. 

 

“You’re really quite expressive when you think to yourself.” Zayn points out with a contemplative expression of his own. 

 

Louis smiles down at the ground, “I have been told that, actually.” He looks at what’s left of his dart and puts it out on the railing before wiping his hands aimlessly on his—Zayn’s—pants. 

 

Zayn smokes the last of his and Louis watches as he breathes out, the smoke facing the sky. With his head tilted up, Louis can see the bruising of his neck more clearly. He can see the love-bite on his collarbone, too. Louis gnaws on his lip slightly before averting his gaze. 

 

“So.” He says, a different tone to the conversation, one that makes Zayn look at him expectantly. 

 

“So…”

 

“I guess I should, like, get going and that.” He says, avoiding Zayn’s eyes, “I’m sure you’re extremely tired and have, like, important things to do—“

 

“Louis, you don’t even have a working phone at the moment.”

 

“ _Yeah_ ,” Louis says, probably a bit too reassuringly and loud, “But, y’know, it’ll be daylight soon so it won’t be too hard to find, like, a cab. And I’m not a drunk idiot this time so driver’s will be more inclined to, like—“

 

“You’re an idiot.”

 

Louis picks up his eyes at that, but only catches the way Zayn shakes his head before sliding open the door and going back inside. Louis hurries after him. 

 

“Hang on, wait, what do you—?”

 

He’s interrupted by a sudden kiss, his last word dying in a mumbled sound of surprise. It’s short and it’s dry but then Zayn’s looking at him with raised brows and big eyes, “You’re staying here, yeah?”

 

A hand on his hip gives Louis a soft squeeze, and then Zayn’s walking away, leaving Louis to blink dumbly in response. 

 

He turns and shuts the sliding door before following Zayn like a lost puppy into the bathroom that he disappeared to. He spots Zayn in front of the mirror, squirting toothpaste on his toothbrush. When he meets Louis’ eyes in the mirror, he opens up the cabinet and hands Louis a spare toothbrush. 

 

“Are you sure it’s alright?” Louis asks, “I mean, like, I know how it’s common courtesy to, like, _do_ that—“

 

“Fuck common courtesy.” Zayn says, wetting his brush. “I want you to stay.”

 

Louis feels like beaming until his cheeks hurt. He doesn’t though, and instead nudges Zayn’s side, making him topple a bit. 

 

“Could you not interrupt me for one second, perhaps?” 

 

Zayn lets out a loud laugh, the sound of it echoing against the tiles. “Sorry.”

 

“But, really.” Louis says, curling his arm around Zayn’s waist to pull him in before kissing him on the head, “Thank you.”

 

With a brush in his mouth and toothpaste on his teeth, Zayn looks at him and mumbles, “Ish the leasht I can do.”

 

Louis just stares at him, fake-repulsed, “Charming, that.”

 

Another laugh fills the room and if Louis feels a sense of great achievement, nobody has to know. 

 

They brush their teeth in as much silence as it allows, pulling faces at each other through the mirror. They have an unspoken competition of who can brush the longest. Louis wins, and Zayn claims it’s only because he started later. 

 

They move back in bed, the curtains still open, and Louis places his head on Zayn’s chest. Zayn’s sitting up slightly, pillow between his back and the headboard, and his hand softly cards through Louis’ hair. Louis lets his own fingers trace over Zayn’s tattoos—the playing card, the heart, the pistol, the _might as well…_ —he has questions for each of them, but he saves it. Something in his mind tells him that he’ll have other opportunities to ask. 

 

His phone’s charging on the bedside table and Louis wonders if his friends have replied to all of his angry messages he had sent before it died. He wonders if he’ll be able to snag Zayn’s number when they wake up.

 

For now, though, they’re content to just lie here and not say a word. Louis’ so tired, his eyes slowly drooping, and he can tell Zayn’s movements in his hair are getting lazier and lazier. 

 

So, they fall asleep at sunrise, just like that. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading i love u 
> 
> talk to me on tumblr! louiswmalik


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